


i fought them all off just to hold you close and tight

by endlessnighttimesky



Series: count your blessings [2]
Category: Bandom, My Chemical Romance
Genre: Crying, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, M/M, Nightmares
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-20
Updated: 2013-05-20
Packaged: 2017-12-12 11:18:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,039
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/810988
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/endlessnighttimesky/pseuds/endlessnighttimesky
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He’s just finished a drawing of a dilapidated zombie, brain matter seeping out of a cracked skull and bones poking through rotten flesh, when he hears a tiny, distressed noise from the vicinity of Frank’s bunk.</p><p>“Gee.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	i fought them all off just to hold you close and tight

**Author's Note:**

> Wow, that took a while. Anyway, the sequel to [Put Away The Pills (Come Waste Away With Me)](http://archiveofourown.org/works/641699) is finally here. There might be a third and concluding part to this series, since I've got a little more written (emphasis on little - it'll be short), but I don't know when I'll finish that. Soon, hopefully.
> 
> Title from _Early Sunsets Over Monroeville_ by My Chemical Romance.

The clock hit midnight a couple of hours ago, but Gerard is still awake, restless fingers and caffeinated brain spewing idea after idea onto the page in his lap. He’s been going through sketchbooks like cigarette packs during the past month, buying shitty markers at Wal-Mart twice a week because he keeps running out. It’s not ideal – nothing ever is when you’re on tour – but it works.

He’s just finished a drawing of a dilapidated zombie, brain matter seeping out of a cracked skull and bones poking through rotten flesh, when he hears a tiny, distressed noise from the vicinity of Frank’s bunk.

“Gee.”

It’s barely audible, but Gerard picks up on it – he always does, even when they’re onstage and Frank is feet away from his mic, bent over his guitar on the floor as he screams along with the kids behind the barricade.

“Gee, no,” Frank whines, and there is the muted shuffle of sheets, Frank’s bunk creaking slightly as he turns over. Things are quiet for a few seconds before Frank lets out a sob, choked off and heartbreaking.

Gerard lets out the breath he didn’t know he’d been holding, unclenches his fingers from around the marker in his hand, and pulls away the curtain, barely making any noise as he plants his feet on the floor.

When he pulls Frank’s curtain away, Gerard finds him curled up in the corner of the bunk, knees drawn halfway up to his chest and arms close to his body, cheeks damp and pillow tearstained. He looks so tiny and vulnerable it makes Gerard’s heart ache, and when another sob escapes from Frank’s lips there is nothing he can do but climb in there with him.

“No, no, no,” Frank chants, still asleep, twisting under the covers. “Don’t go, Gee, please.”

It takes a while for Gerard to get a grip around Frank with how much he’s squirming, but eventually he’s got him cradled against his chest, arms wrapped tight around his back and one hand stroking his hair.

“Frankie?” he whispers, trying to avoid getting punched by Frank’s flailing limbs. “It’s only a dream, Frankie, come on, wake up.”

“You can’t go, Gee,” Frank mumbles into Gerard’s t-shirt. “Don’t leave me, I can’t – ” He drags in a huge breath, startling awake, hands tightening in Gerard’s t-shirt as he clings to him with all his might, body tense.

“Frank?” Gerard ducks down, burying is face in Frank’s hair, holding him close.

“Gee?” Frank’s voice is rough with sleep and confusion. “Fuck, that was – I thought – thank God. Gee…”

“I’m here, Frankie,” Gerard whispers. “I’m always gonna be here.”

“I know, I just – ” Frank doesn’t finish the sentence, not knowing what to say, so he kisses Gerard instead, hands cupping his face. Gerard goes with it, letting Frank wrap himself around his body, tangle their legs and wind his arms around Gerard’s neck.

The kiss is nothing like the ones they’ve shared before, not frantic and sloppy, traded in empty venue bathrooms, or sweet and slow like when they’re leaning against the side of the bus, arms wrapped loosely around each other.

Instead it’s hard and bruising, but reassuring like nothing else. It’s the comfort of knowing that Frank’s dream was only that – a dream, and as far from being real as any other nightmare.

After they break apart, Frank slides down, resting his head on Gerard’s chest, listening to his heartbeat, strong and clear. _Alive_. He has to remind himself, sometimes.

“How long?” Gerard asks.

“Japan,” Frank mumbles, eyes slipping close against his will. He doesn’t want to go back to sleep, not if all it’s going to lead up to is him waking up an hour or two later, soaked in sweat and heart pounding as he tries to convince himself it was just a dream. It works, sure, and his heart rate settles down for a while, but no matter how many times he feels the warmth of Gerard’s hand in his or his pulse against his fingertips, those dreams stay with him, haunting him whenever he closes his eyes.

“You should’ve told me,” Gerard says, stroking a clammy hand down Frank’s arm, ink-stained fingers tracing the pictures ingrained in his skin. He can’t see them, but he feels like he knows where the lines should be, and it always calms Frank, so he keeps at it, smoothing his palm up and down Frank’s arm.

“It’s not a problem,” Frank explains quietly. “Not when you’re around.” He relaxes into Gerard’s touch, heart slowing down and descending from his throat. His breathing is almost back to normal, so now all he wishes is for the nightmares to stop, and for Gerard to sleep, because his arm is heavy where it’s thrown over Frank’s side, and his breaths come long and slow, like he’s already asleep.

Frank feels stupid at first, for not realizing, but then he whispers, “Gee?” without getting a reply, and all he can feel is relief.

Gerard is _sleeping_ , and not even forty-eight hours have passed since he last did, which is how it usually works; he stays awake for two days straight, before the sleep-deprivation knocks him out like a punch to the face and keeps him unconscious for the greater part of a day or two.

During those days, sometimes, when consciousness decides to honor him with it’s presence for a few short moments, he finds Frank snuggled up beside him, all soft and warm and tiny. It makes Gerard find the energy to smile, though he can’t muster up anything beyond that. Frank feels it though, against his hair or neck or cheek, and sometimes just in his chest, this sweet warmth, like spun sugar in his ribcage.

It’s not really anything new; Frank remembers the feeling from all those times he sat in on My Chem’s practices in Pencey’s basement, perched on an amp or sprawled on the floor, eyes closed as he let Gerard’s scratchy voice and Ray’s skilled riffs fill his mind.

Now all he has is Gerard’s breaths and his heartbeat, but that’s okay, because no matter how many times Frank has said he’d be dead without music, if he had to choose…

He knows what he’d pick.


End file.
